


tying cherry knots

by lucasfletcher



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Smut, Stripper!Ashton, maybe a lil bit of fluff later, musician!luke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2434664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucasfletcher/pseuds/lucasfletcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you gonna fuck me, Luke?” Ashton breathes out then, tugging at Luke’s hair, while the younger boy sucks on the underside of Ashton’s jaw. He leaves a wet trail of kisses up to Ashton’s hair, sighing into his ear. Ashton squirms at that, Luke’s fingers playing with the curls on other side of his head. “Tickles,” he mumbles, “…so are you?”</p><p>or, the one with strippers and rich boys</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally an idea for another fandom, but then lashton happened
> 
> this one's short, it's just a prologue thingy, testing the waters, I actually don't even know when I'll post the first chapter, but it won't take long, promise.:)
> 
> also I'll be adding tags as we go
> 
> also also title from lana del rey's carmen

**a playlist to this fic can be found[HERE](http://8tracks.com/ashtnwins/let-s-cause-a-little-trouble)**

They have this unspoken rule; no one asks how anybody got here. In the end, they all get to know each other and find out, why the person decided to do this. They still haven’t found out, why Max is here, though – sometimes they catch him crying in the bathroom. When he emerges with a fake smile plastered upon his tear-stained face, they don’t say anything.

It’s not that they don’t care.

But they don’t. They all get along in this twisted, no-emotions-involved relationship. That is also one of the unspoken rules. It’s best not to get too involved, after all, this is just… temporary. Right?

At least that was Ashton’s first thought, when Cam pushed him into the room and harshly pulled at his hair with a snarky ‘ _I brought fresh meat’._ There were hot tears stinging Ashton’s eyes, but he didn’t let them run down his cheeks, while all of the half naked men watched him with raised eyebrows, their laugh echoing in the small space.

And nobody asked. When the word _meat_ made him feel so disgusting, he scrubbed his skin raw in the shower, trying to get rid of the feeling. Ashton cried so much he thought his lungs were going to collapse. His head was permanently clouded, his surroundings hazy and unfocused, he was trying to forget the world around him. The dirty touches and lusty gazes and the money and cheap alcohol. Breathing out smoke from his lungs, looking for relief only the burning of cigarettes could bring. Nobody cared and nobody asked.

When he couldn’t just shrug it off, when they thought that _fresh meat_ wouldn’t even last half a year, just like the others.

Safe to say, he stayed. Where men turn into inferior versions of themselves, hiding behind masks and nicknames, with sensual glances replacing their fear and the fact, that they have nowhere to go. That was probably the scariest thing.

That after a while, it got easier. Like coming home.  

 

Then Ashton met Luke.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

To step into The Shithole (as he ever so aptly calls it) every day with the same thought in his head, which doesn’t even sound hopeful to him anymore, but rather paranoid, has become a familiar routine for Ashton. Sometimes his day becomes brighter when he glances at the floor and it’s already cleaned for a change, or at least swept. That means he can be barefoot for at least half of the day.

_Heads up, boy, maybe today you’ll make it to Hollywood._

The saying is almost as old as their craft, so Ashton just smiles as always and makes his way to the other side of the room. He has the dark space which can only be described as a mass of wood covering the floor, furniture and even the walls, embedded in his memory. The old chairs and the long destroyed mahogany tables serve as a supplement to the hand made bar counter. There are golden records hanging from the walls along with posters of underground bands and bottles are shining alluringly on the glass shelves. The lighting is quite bad even during the day, the windows painted black and covered with heavy drapes. At night, they have go all out with the dimmed lamps and spotlights, but the only source of light right now is the single bulb hanging from the ceiling. The shiny metal poles are, quite frankly, ruining the atmosphere and also create not so pretty calluses on the palms.

But all in all, The Long John Pub is an appealing place. Tucked in far away from Regent, deep in the street full of pubs, where the bar stools are placed outside and you can easily fall off of them – just like that because they go downhill. Anyways, all of them - the veteran and appropriately underappreciated employees - live in fear that one day it’s going to crumple and bury them under a pile of old bricks while they're giving a cheap shitty lapdance.

Ashton goes to clean up the floor just in his ripped tank top and skinny jeans as he waits on his colleagues to arrive on time before Cam throws the usual fit. Then some guy with fat basically everything grandiosely ignores the plate on the door that says _closed_ and steps inside.

“Good morning,” he greets in a throaty voice and Ashton raises his eyebrows. He continues to mop the floor and tries to ignore the longing gaze of the guy. “I came to negotiate some terms for extra services that we would be interested in.”

Ashton studies him for a while, then he runs his hand through the mop of curls on the top of his head. “Firstly, we do not _negotiate_ in this business, sir. That is a fact, because we’re basically bound with the money you have and we don’t. And secondly I’d have to ask you what you meant with that ‘extra services’, because, frankly, that’s not how it works.”

He waits for the guy to answer him, but then the smirk freezes on his face when he catches the tall figure standing in the door of the office. Shit. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. The man tuts and shakes his head, while he comes closer and then he slowly claps.

“Always sassy, this one. My favourite Cherry,” he disgustingly licks his lips and winks at Ashton, “meet your new Boss. Sir, this is the boy who will do everything you want - for a certain price, of course.”

Under Cam’s steadfast gaze Ashton throws the mop into the bucket, the dirty water splashing everywhere and he moves closer to the guy with a fake smile playing on his lips. The guy lets out a raucous laughter and pulls out a business card from his pocket.

“Extra services,” he repeats, “for tonight – we only want the best. I hope we can count on you… I’ll clear the conditions over the phone. And I like him. Cheeky,” he point with his robust finger in Ashton’s direction who can barely contain the scowl making its way to his face.

Not long after the guy leaves, rough hands push at Ashton’s middle back, making him stumble. The edge of one of the tables dig painfully into his hipbones. Cam pulls at his hair, but Ashton doesn’t even flinch.

“It seems our little cheeky Cherry will have a job tonight.”

…

The preparations for the night are always hectic, a mix of hands fighting for face powder, the sound of blow dryers and nakedness. Ashton does not try to stay away, he dives headfirst into all the chaos and he doesn’t even flinch anymore when he gets a jab in his elbow or ribs. It’s business. He can breathe a little easier in the dressing room, though they don’t use the term ‘privacy’. He has seen more naked men than he ever wanted. Not that he’s complaining.

They shower in the backroom before every show, where the amount of naked bodies increases, but if you’re living on the streets or you just lack the necessary water, it’s the best option. They can’t throw you to the wilderness with body hair and reeking.

Ashton sprays on one of the heavy perfumes and takes a deep breath, Cam’s voice echoing in his head. The special guests are _really_ special, and he can’t fuck it up because there’ll be consequences. In fact, if anything fucks up there will be consequences, but especially tonight. He hopes it’ll at least be worth it.

When he shuts the door behind him, he can feel their gazes on him. The room pulses with music, and there’s a familiar smell filling his nose, swarming across the room. The lights flash. He closes his eyes for a second, and moves forward with an exhale. 

Ashton stops in front of the metal pole and slowly takes in the guys sitting against the wall of the circular room. The words _exclusive show_ echo in his ears, and he know he has to leave them hanging, unfastening the first button of his shirt.

“Who is the lucky one?” he says then, his voice carrying throughout the room. The man, no, it’s more of a boy, is sitting right across Ashton. There’s a joint hanging from the corner of his mouth and he watches Ashton’s every move with widened eyes.

“And what’s the lucky one’s name?” Ashton comes to a halt in front of him and undoes another button. His face is kind of familiar to him, but he ignores that. (After all, there were too many of them for him to remember.)

“Luke,” he rasps in a surprisingly deep voice, and Ashton raises an arm to softly trace the line of his cheekbone with his index finger.

“Happy birthday, Luke. I heard you were a bad boy,” the words roll off Ashton’s tongue, and he tries not to flinch, but he addresses them only his ear and watches, how Luke closes his eyes. Then Ashton rips the buttons, revealing his chest and stomach. He straddles Luke’s lap and winks slowly at the gaping boy.

“Very, very bad boy,” Ashton scratches at the skin of Luke’s nape. And then it’s all just a big blur for Ashton, he gets lost in the music, sweat and adrenalin that powers him.

“C’mon, you can touch,” he encourages Luke, while he throws the shirt somewhere behind him, placing his arms on Luke’s shoulders. Someone puts a lit joint to his mouth, and Ashton shouldn’t, _absolutely,_ but he breathes in the familiar smoke anyway and then exhales against Luke’s neck. The boy is now smirking, as if the initial reluctance has faded and he puts one hand on Ashton’s biceps, curling the other one around his hip. There’s a drop of sweat running down Ashton’s back and in that moment he’s glad it’s not some perverse fifty year old, because _shit._

And so Ashton unfastens the button on his trousers, pulling them down his thighs, letting Luke touch the muscle and rub his palms all over him, then settling on his lap again. He snatches a joint again and then turns to Luke’s parted lips, breathing the smoke into his mouth. He flicks his tongue to touch at Luke’s bottom lip and _what the fuck is he doing?_

The situation seems a bit bizarre to Ashton, even though there were younger guys in the pub. Maybe too young, but as long as there’s money involved, no one has a problem. He thinks about Luke’s story, he’s probably not that desperate, the expensive watch and clothes proving otherwise. 

Luke’s hands roam his body and Ashton relishes the feeling, the burn his soft hands leave against his skin. Ashton’s still moving, arching his hips and flexing the muscles of his arms, but he’s ignoring the music, too focused on the boy. The light catches in his baby blue eyes and Ashton takes in a deep breath, avoiding his gaze. Luke's palms spread across his lower back. Ashton usually doesn’t let them touch, _but._ This feels different, somehow.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed, until one of the guys sitting next to Luke says something, and then they’re all leaving. He receives his money, Luke tucking the bills into his boxers, his hands lingering for a moment longer on the swell of his bum.

“I hope you’ll come back to me, Luke,” whispers Ashton, letting his lips brush the shell of his ear. He knows he’ll do it. He can see it in Luke’s shining blue orbs, in the way his hands stroke Ashton’s ribs, how he frowns when Ashton gets up. He knows he’ll do it, but he reminds him anyway. Just to make sure.  

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiya
> 
> hope you like this chapter, have a nice day all of you lovely people <3

“Tell me,” he rasps, and the voice sends shivers down Ashton’s spine; he throws his head back so it’s resting on Luke’s shoulder.

“What do you want me to tell you?” Ashton leaves a wet kiss on the side of his neck.

“Your name… who are you?” 

Ashton turns, so he’s straddling Luke’s lap, who runs his hands down Ashton’s bare back, over the swell of his ass, until he grips his thigh.

“Every secret has its cost, my little star.”

Luke scratches at the tender skin of Ashton thigh and he slaps at his hand. The music is not so loud in this room, one of the private parts of the club where blood red colour is dominant along with dark massive wood.

“Do you know what other secrets have their cost? The ones people all around the world would enjoy hearing of.” He raises his eyes provocatively and looks around the room as if to prove his point, stopping at the cigarette in Luke’s hand. He immediately throws it to the ground, and Ashton steps on it, frowning. Luke catches Ashton wrist, his confident gaze crumbling like a house of cards.

“No, you can’t do that,” he breathes out, and Ashton tries to break free, but his grip is too strong.

“If I remember correctly, I’ve never committed to keep secret information. You know when I think about it, this is probably the best alternative. Can you imagine the headlines: a volatile popstar seeking refuge in a stripclub? That would be a pretty good story, don’t you think? And maybe I finally wouldn’t have to sleep on a chair in the dressing room.”

He throws his head back, parting his obscenely red lips in a soft exhale. Ashton waits, until he releases his wrists, then he gets up, but before he can leave, Luke grabs his hips.

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, _you_ tell me about it, Luke. How’s it like to not have to worry about finding a place for sleep, career and above all, money? You know, this is not as easy as it looks like.”

“You can’t just … look, I…” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I get what situation you’re in, but frankly… you can’t even imagine the trouble I would get in. I shouldn’t even be here.”

“You really don’t get what situation I’m in, popstar,” Ashton laughs, bitterly, “And why do you keep coming back? This is the third time.”

“Because I still don’t know your name. And if you can promise me no one will find out about this, you’ll see me again.” He pulls a bunch of bills from his pocket and thrusts them into Ashton’s hand who raises his eyebrows at the total amount of the banknotes. Before Ashton can explain to him that you don’t leave strippers kisses on the cheeks, he’s gone.

....

Ashton met Michael around the time they both crashed on stragers’ couches and he wore the horrendous glasses with thick frames, a lot (and he means _really_ a lot) of orange and slept with his guitar. He probably still does it, even though he got rid of the orange and he wears contacts now.

It was _his_ little Michael, whom he had to prepare for the big, bad world and pinch his chubby cheeks and mess up his hair. He kind of adopted him after one of Michael’s shows and that was that.

They lived together for about two weeks. Well, it was rather that Ashton moved to his sofa and entertained himself watching how Michael sat on the fire escape, trying to keep the pigeons away from his guitar. Their life together consisted of cheap food, licorice, cigarettes and music. They didn’t need anything else. They just… clicked.

Then Michael ran away to the big, bad world and sometimes when Ashton listened to his voice in the payphone booth, it seemed like he prepared him for it quite well. He hadn’t seen his Michael since he stopped playing dingy pubs in London and became an indie rock icon. Sometimes he thinks about him, how he’d like to have the boy with excited eyes and chubby cheeks by his side again.

Then one of the guys rushes into the dressing room with: “There’s some red haired dick standing outside the door and supposedly looking for Irwin.”

Ashton tears his eyes from the corner where Max is wiping the tears silently streaming down his face and he kind wants to bawl, too. Everything sucks and somebody is surely making fun of him.

When he opens the door, his eyes widen and he kind of just stares at a smiling Michal, because it’s not a joke.

“Do you remember me, Ashy?”

“That ugly mug of yours is unforgettable, Mikey,” he tells him when he recovers from the initial shock and steps into his open arms.

“How come there’s a second superstar stepping into my pub in the last two weeks?” he murmurs into Michael’s neck and Michael just snorts and it’s _so_ familiar Ashton kind of wants to cry again. Instead he pinches his cheek and messes up his bright red hair covered in gel. Ashton’s in the process of wiping his palm into Michael’s hoodie when another body joins them.

“My little star came back for me,” Ashton smirks a little and watches how Luke’s cheeks tinge pink, then he opens the door to the back street. He realizes this is actually the first time he’s seeing Luke in the daylight, his skin looking all soft and pale and his eyes even bluer than before.

Ashton plays with an empty box of cigarettes in the pocket of his sweatpants and bites his lips, just to somehow occupy himself. Closing his eyes, he breathes in the heavy smell of smog mixed with garbage and piss. Ah, home sweet London.

“What are you doing here, Mikey?” he says, when he can feel both of their gazes on him.

“My secret sources informed me you’re still working here. I couldn’t do without visiting someone who I owe a few things in my life to.”

Ashton laughs, kind of bitterly. “Not even popstars can keep their mouths shut, right Luke?”

“I’m sorry, _Ashton,_ ” he says, emphasizing his name and Michael, seemingly familiar with the whole situation between him and Luke pulls out a brown paper bag, offering it to Ashton.

“What’s that?”

“Ashy, you can’t be serious. How long did you go without this?”

Ashton opens the bag just to find red and green licorice pieces. The chewing occupies his mouth and he doesn’t think about how desperately he needs a cigarette for a moment.

“Since I left… do you even eat or just smoke, Irwin?”

Ashton snorts and then thinks about his answer, while crumpling the paper bag. “Strippers are on a diet, just from principle, but sometimes I have to, because no threesome can be perfect without energy intake.”

He measures Luke’s reaction, who just raises an eyebrow at him and Michael says he missed this. And that he wants a private show, because he hasn’t seen him for long. Ashton flips him off.

They promise each other to meet up again and Ashton breathes kind of easier after that. He really missed him.

He’s left alone with Luke and the silence settles over them, awkward and heavy.

“Do you wanna maybe go… somewhere with me? There’s this café, not far away from here. I mean…” Luke cuts off, rubbing his shoes against the pavement.

“Don’t you have better things to do?”

Luke smiles softly at Ashton, and his heart does this weak little flop in his chest. “No, actually.”

And Ashton shouldn’t be doing this. But then he finds himself nodding, despite his head screaming at him he should run as far away as he can from the boy with cerulean eyes. This asks for trouble.

You wouldn’t even notice the café if you walked right past it, just a hole in the wall. It is dark and empty, and the old owner brings them their coffees after fifteen minutes of suspicious banging coming from the backroom.

The coffee tastes horrible, like ashes and something else Ashton can’t quite decipher, he just hopes it isn’t anything life threatening. When he catches both of their reflections in the mirror on the opposite wall, he wants to laugh. Him, in his baggy sweats and a black bandana taming the curls on his head, looking fucking homeless and like he belongs here. And then there’s Luke, with his preppy hair and clean clothes, clutching tightly onto the mug, his posture stooped. The beanie on his hair and sunglasses are supposed to be some kind of cover, but Ashton doesn't think it's working. The contrast between them is ridiculous.

Their eyes meet in the mirror. Luke quickly averts his gaze, and Ashton turns back and observes him.

“This tastes awful,” Ashton pushes the cup away from him and watches how Luke takes another sip, his face contorting a little.

He looks up to find Ashton staring, and this time he holds his gaze, blinking softly. They don’t talk and it’s not that awkward and Ashton feels kind of peaceful. But also, he’s aching for a cigarette.

“Did you really mean it when you said you were sleeping on a chair in your dressing room?” asks Luke, his voice quiet. Ashton watches how his lips brush against each other with every word.

“We couldn’t pay the rent, so they kicked me and my friend out of our flat. Our boss lets us stay there, as long as we help with the cleaning and stuff.”

“Oh.” Then: “Ashton?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you happy?”

Which. Completely throws Ashton off, his need for a cigarette intensifying. “Well, I mean…” he starts, but then he cuts himself off, standing abruptly. He does not like how his heart does another weird flop. “We should go.”

Luke follows him, paying for their unfinished coffees and Ashton lets him. He took him there, so he’s going to pay. A broke stripper isn’t going to argue when someone’s offering.

He stops in a little convenience store, buying two packages of cigarettes. When he’s handing the salesman the last bits of his money, his hands shake. Luke is still behind him, not even worrying about getting papped. Ashton scoffs internally at that. He also asks for a box of matches, and he can feel the calmness he felt in the café slowly dissipating.

“Look, Luke, for whichever reason you asked me out today, you have to know I’m not actually interested in dating. At all. You have your own world and I have mine. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Luke breathes out and Ashton turns to leave. After a few steps a voice stops him. 

“Hey Ash?”

He turns to look at Luke, who has his hands behind his back and a sheepish smile on his face.

“I’ll see you, yeah?”

Ashton fights to keep the smile from creeping onto his face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's for Safa, because we're starting a band together
> 
> there's malum, yaay 
> 
> ♥

“And what is this?” asks Ashton, spinning around, kind of surprised, though he could have guessed that when Luke came for him in his armored (he suspects it really _is_ armored) car and told him he had a surprise for him. That he was a good boy and he deserved it. That was about the time Ashton tried to open the door, but Luke was quicker than him with the child safety lock.

“Well, it’s commonly called a kitchen, a living room and a bathroom and together a flat. And it’s yours.” He’s leaning against the front door, an embodiment of confidence in clothes that probably cost more than Ashton’s two months salary. The lamp on the ceiling is a weak source of light, making all of the shadows more prominent. Ashton can’t look away from him.

“Are you kidding?” he asks and watches how Luke slowly shakes his head.

“This hole, right? Oh wow, I didn’t know you thought so highly of me, Luke. Should I be flattered? Jump for joy?”

“Well, I suspected that if I brought you into a mansion, you’d probably tell me to go fuck myself. And anyway this is more… you.”

He slowly walks to the old couch and sits down, the rickety thing creaking under his weight. Save for the furnished kitchen and the carpet matching the curtains with suspiciously looking holes and stains it’s the only piece of furniture. Just so Ashton doesn’t have to admit Luke’s right, he purses his lips and walks into the tiny kitchen, divided from the living room by a half wall. There he pours water into a chipped cup as a makeshift ashtray and then he folds himself onto the ground next to Luke’s legs.

“Again, thank you. You really outdid yourself on this one,” he says sarcastically with a cigarette between his lips. When it’s his, he’s going to mark his territory. “What did I even do to deserve this?”

“Actually, I didn’t spend anything on this. When you get to know hundreds of people a day, you find out that a hole like this can be obtained in a really short time… for free. And you know what.” He kicks with his worn out shoe into Ashton’s worn out sneaker and he glances at Luke from under a cloud of smoke, laughing shortly.

“You’re gonna insure your secrets? But pretty boys aren’t a cheap affair, my little star.” He rakes his nails up Luke’s leg and then he digs his nails into the skin peeking out from the hole on his knee.

“I don’t know, something’s telling me you are,” he smirks, all dimples and bright teeth. Ashton glances down at his own ripped jeans and a tank top, shrugs, because he doesn’t have a good comeback and then he closes his eyes.

“And yeah, I just thought since you and your friend got kicked out, that this would be… I don’t know…”

“Calum can live here, too?”

And who’s Ashton to say no to a free shelter.

He can feel Luke as a steady presence on his right and he can hear a distant tapping, but he focuses rather on the sounds of sirens and bustle from the street below, coming through the window.

“What’s your story, then?”

Ashton slowly opens his eyes, disturbed from the peace. Luke is still looking at his phone, but he definitely asked something.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, a story. Everyone has one,” he glances up and looks expectantly at Ashton, a very serious look in his eyes. As if the question even mattered. As if Ashton would ever tell him. He explains that to him, that he doesn’t tell stories and that Luke should just go read a book.

“So you’re never going to tell me?” He kicks at Ashton’s shoe again and he moves away.

“Nope.”

Then: “Wanna something to eat?”

“Nope.”

Ashton can feel him moving behind him, the couch protesting under his weight and then he softly pulls at Ashton’s hair, so he has no other choice but to turn around. He breathes the smoke into Luke’s face, the cars roar by on the street and the air is glimmer, hazy from the heat, filled with the exhaustion he can see in his eyes.

Luke puts his nose behind Ashton’s ear, so his lips move directly against his neck when he speaks, and he lets him move his hand on Ashton’s ribs. “Wanna fuck?”

“Nope.”

The situation is vaguely familiar, as Ashton breathes out against Luke’s lips, the blond boy’s eyes opened wide. And Ashton thinks, yeah, he could kiss him. Like a full out kiss. A kiss like he hasn’t had for a very long time. But then he thinks better of that, presses his lips to the corner of Luke’s mouth for a moment and then runs his hand through his quiff.

“Ask me when I find my fridge full and maybe a bed instead of a couch.”

…

 

The time stopped in the appartment. Literally. The beat up clock on the kitchen wall shows quarter to seven, which is the exact time Ashton’s train leaves to Long John and every time he glances up at it, he suffers from a mini heart attack. Not that he couldn’t be late. But he can’t. The only plus of this hole (well, besides that it is a hole) is that it’s not far from the underground station which gets Ashton to and from the bar. So he travels surrounded by similar weirdoes like him when he’s getting back to the flat after his shift, exhausted. Sometimes they nod at each other, like hey, been there, yeah, done that. They – the lowest circle of society – must stick together.

There’s a broken mirror in the bathroom. He doesn’t know how it happened, the previous owner had probably a few anger issues, but the little fragments somehow stayed together and Ashton stares into it now, his reflection crooked and unnatural. _Seven years of bad luck,_ he thinks, as he splashes the cold tap water onto his face.

Someone tests the doorbell for the first time, just as he’s washing his hands. He grips the porcelain sink until his knuckles go white, still staring at himself, noticing the bags under his eyes and the oily hair sticking to his forehead. He doesn’t expect Calum to open the door. When he’s asleep, he’s… well _asleep._ Like properly. 

Ashton ties a plain black bandana on his head, ruffling his hair in the process. He opens after the fourth ring. Calum grunts into his pillow from his place on the mattress next to the couch.

“Yeah, the doorbell works, it surprises me, too,” he tells the green leaves in front of his face and then he pushes them aside to look at the addressee. “And what are _you_ doing here?”

“They sent me to find out if you hadn’t accidentally killed yourself. It would not be a pretty sight to find your rotting body getting eaten by vermin after a month. I come bearing gifts. Here, have a fern,” grins Michael and shoves the flower pot into Ashton’s hands.

“You mean, the popstar hasn’t showed up this week, so he sent you, just so he could move someone else into this flat in case we’d already be gone. Also, are you aware that this fern’s chances of surviving here are probably as high as mine without cigarettes?”

He rolls his eyes and instead of answering pushes Ashton inside, so he can close the door and look around.

“Hello MTV and welcome to my crib,” Ashton murmurs sarcastically and puts the plant on the ground. Calum’s makeshift bed is already abandoned.

“It looks… cozy.”

Cozy is probably the last word Ashton would use to describe this _thing,_ but he doesn’t tell him that. Michael sits down on the edge of the couch, where Ashton’s blanket and pillow are messily strewn around and Ashton steps into the kitchen. There’s a distant sound of running water, Calum is most likely taking a shower.

“You want something? We have a dried-up cereal bar, a mouldy croissant and tap water in our monthly menu.”

“So that’s why Luke told me I should go grocery shopping instead of a welcome gift. Thank fuck I’m a polite visitor and I thought about our basic needs.”

He pulls out a bottle of wine and they pour it into the old mugs, laughing about how Michael tries to open it with a knife, then gives up and just pushes the cork inside.

They lean side to side against the window sill, cigarettes between their fingers.

“We don’t have a fire escape or your guitar, but the pigeons are here, so… cheers to the old days.” They clink their mugs, alternating between looking at the dark grey sky and the pigeons on the telephone cables and Ashton thinks about the past. He doesn’t do that often.

“You know, Luke told me …”

“Did you come here to talk about him?”

He ignores Ashton’s raised eyebrow and continues, “He told me you didn’t want to fuck him.”

“And you’re here to convince me? To surrender to the infamous Luke Hemmings’ charm?”

Michael shakes his head, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Why are you grinning like an idiot?”

“Ashy, maybe he hasn’t gotten under your skin yet, but I can assure you he didn’t ever have any infamous charm. He’s a loser, really, just like me who got lucky.”

The gaggle of pigeons starts to leave their place on the cables.

“And I thought you got rid of the sentimental shit along the way.I don’t want to become just some... thing that helps a confused popstar figure out his sexuality.”

Michael pushes at Ashton’s shoulder.

“He’s serious. Let him show you the truth.”

Ashton pretends to gag and Michael pushes him again. Then they laugh, light and carefree, and it leaves Ashton breathless. Michael’s laugh dies on his lips when Calum comes to the room, only a towel wrapped around his slender hips, his chest glistening and hair all over the place, dripping wet. Ashton rolls his eyes. He should’ve expected this.

“Uh… hi?” he lets out and steps closer to them.

“H-hey,” squeaks Michael and. _Really?_ Ashton elbows him in the ribs.

“Michael, this is my friend Calum. Calum, Michael.”

Calum sticks out a hand, losing his grip on the towel which only slides lower on his hips in the process. Michael shakes Calum’s hand, following the towel-movement with his eyes, then covers it up by looking down at his shoes. Ashton thinks if he rolls his eyes any more, they’re going to stay like that permanently.

And, really, firsts meeting are usually awkward and so Ashton expects silence. What he doesn’t expect is how the two boys completely start to ignore him, too engrossed with each other. Which. Rude.

He knows he’s sulking, but he can’t really help it. Michael’s stealing Calum. Or the other way round. It doesn’t really matter. What matters is that he feels neglected, sitting on the far end of the couch with hands crossed and a pout on his lips.

“Hey, Ash?”

“Oh, wow. Hi Michael, didn’t even notice you here,” mumbles Ashton and Michael ignores that. Ashton feels loved.

“Luke is asking if you could go down. He’s waiting for you,” Michael waves his phone in front of Ashton’s face.

“Don’t wanna.”

Michael gives him a _look._ “Ashton.”

“Michael.”

After a few seconds of their staring competition, Ashton sighs. “Alright. But no inappropriate business on my couch. Or anywhere, really.”

They at least have the decency to blush. Ashton thinks about the blue-eyed boy and how there are definitely _not_ any of those stupid butterfly thingies filling up his stomach. His skin isn’t tingling every time he so much as hears his name. Nope.

He makes sure to slam the door extra hard behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry it took so long, this is awful

Luke actually isn’t waiting for Ashton when he exits the building and Ashton just. He considers going back up to beat the shit out of Michael, but then a car pulls to the side and he can vaguely make out a blond boy waving at him. Ashton is kind of pissed off. He’s cold and also not in the mood to deal with a popstar.

He’s glaring when he opens the door to the passenger side.

“Hi, Ash.”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

There’s a dimple poking into Luke’s cheek and his phone is beeping from somewhere. Ashton puffs his cheeks and glares out of the window, fully determined to ignore every Luke’s attempt to start up a conversation.

“How do you like living in the flat?”

“Fine.”

Luke seems to get it after that, but it just pisses Ashton even more. Smiling, he hums softly to the tunes on the radio and seems to be just so _content_ like that and Ashton envies that. He doesn’t have anything to worry about, rich little kid with a successful career.

“I have a lot of things to worry about,” Luke replies, still smiling and Ashton doesn’t even realize he said that out loud.

“Of course you have,” he scoffs.

“You, for example.” Luke turns to look at Ashton and he quickly avoids his gaze, pursing his lips.

“Shut up.”

Luke chuckles.

His flat is how Ashton expected – impersonally modern furniture and open spaces, but the view of the city from a huge window in Luke’s living room is kind of beautiful. The rush of the downtown’s traffic doesn’t even reach this height, he can only see the blinking lights as the city slowly immerses into darkness.

Ashton settles down on the ground in front of the leather couch and puts his booted feet up on Luke’s coffee table.

They’re quiet for a while, until Luke sighs, twice, and the wrecked sound only makes Ashton glare at him. As Luke types something into his phone, Ashton impatiently echoes Luke’s sigh.

Luke then plops himself down next to Ashton.

“I have a proposition. Well, a condition. Well… I don’t know.”

Ashton nods his head to signal he’s listening and looks down at Luke’s fingers that are nervously folded in his lap.

“I was thinking… I could pay you. And then we could… you know.”

It takes a while for Ashton to catch on. “No. Why do you want this so much? I’m not worthy of your time, my little star.”

“Don’t say that. I’ve wanted you ever since I saw you for the first time. Is it me? Don’t you want me?”

Ashton finally looks into his cerulean eyes that are widened in hope and he loses his train of thoughts for a moment. “Shut up, Hemmings, oh my god, you’re making this so difficult. If you want it, at least learn how to say it. S e x, it’s not that hard, just three words.”

“Fine. Will you let me fuck you?”

Ashton raises his eyebrows. “No.”

“Ash, I’m really going to pay you…”

Ashton silences him with a glare. “No, I’m not going to let you fuck me, not yet. You’re so stupid, I don’t want you money. Do you know how to properly woo a man? Wine and dine me, and I’ll think about it.”

The truth is, he’d let Luke fuck him, thank you very much. Even for free. But he kind of likes this little game, likes how Luke’s trying to get to him. He doesn’t get why he’s trying to do that, but he’ll go with it. He’s enjoying his attention.

“Alright then. Do you like pasta?”

Luke is standing up and heading to the direction of what Ashton guesses is his kitchen. “What? You’re going to do it right now?” his voice squeaks with surprise.

Luke’s laugh echoes in the space and Ashton stands up, following in his footsteps. “Do you even know how to cook?”

Luke scoffs, offended.

Ashton watches how the blond boy moves confidently in his kitchen, preparing the food and he makes it looks so effortless, like he actually does that every day. The neckline of Luke’s white sweater scoops past his collarbones and Ashton watches the skin of his neck, how it looks almost too pale in under the bright lights and. No.

They open a bottle of wine. It’s an expensive one and they pour it into proper wine glasses and Ashton thinks about the old mugs in his apartment and his conversation with Michael. Maybe this is the first step. Luke Hemmings 101. Lecture one: he looks hot when he cooks.

They eat in the spacious dining room, playing footsie under the big glass table and Ashton almost chokes on his pasta when Luke accidentally kicks him too hard. They drink the wine and Ashton can feel it getting into his head, since, you know, he drank before coming here and now it’s another bottle. He catches himself staring at the blue-eyed boy more than it’s necessary and Luke’s smile is widening with every sip of his wine and the dimple in his cheek seems like it’s permanently engraved into his skin. And Ashton laughs at his stupid faces and sometimes the not funny things he says and yeah. Their conversation from earlier is long forgotten, but Ashton’s mind is drifting to it anyway.

Lecture two: he also looks hot when he’s doing pretty much everything.

Luke carries their dishes back to the kitchen and Ashton follows him. And when the younger boy starts honest-to-god to wash the plates, Ashton’s not even surprised. His head is spinning and he’s comfortable and he thinks he hasn’t smiled this much in one day since… probably forever.

“Don’t you have, like, a washing machine?”

Silence. Then there’s water in Ashton’s face, soaking his bandana and slowly dripping down on his T-shirt. He wipes it off with the hem of the band tee and when he opens his eyes, he catches Luke smiling inconspicuously.

“Wow and to think I was actually going to…” he drifts off.

“Going to what?” Luke turns off the water and faces Ashton, from where he has his hip propped up against the counter.

“Now you’ll never know, since you’re rude to your guests.”

Luke pouts, blinking slowly. “Please, tell me,” he whines and Ashton steps closer to him.

“Beg for it.”

“Asht-”

Ashton kisses him. He surges forward and kind of has to step on his toes and he totally hates that, except he doesn’t. He winds his arms around Luke’s neck and hauls him closer, their mouths colliding with a force that has him tightening his grip and at the same time push against the younger boy.  

Lecture three: Luke Hemmings is a pretty decent kisser when he has the time to finally react.

Luke licks hotly into his mouth, his arms grasping at Ashton’s back. Ashton shuts his eyes so tight he sees white spots dancing on the backs of his eyelids. Maybe it’s from the wine. (Maybe it’s just Luke.) His head is spinning and he can taste the wine on their tongues, mixing with their dinner and it should probably be disgusting but it totally isn’t. Luke pulls at Ashton’s hair and he hums into Luke’s mouth.

They part with a wet smack. The blush is spreading across Ashton’s cheeks; he’s feeling hot all of a sudden.

“Wow.” Luke’s whisper seems almost too loud. Ashton hides his face in the crook of his neck, his arms still wrapped around him, and Luke pulls him even closer. He can feel the vein in Luke’s neck pulsing as he’s willing to calm his own breathing and heartbeat down.

“Was that okay?”

Instead of answering, Luke leans down and kisses him again. They suck at each other’s lips, until they’re bruised; there’s certain desperation behind the kiss. Ashton’s head feels like it has left his body, floating somewhere above him. And it feels _so_ good.

He steps back then, letting Luke finish washing the dishes, biting his lip as he watches the blond boy’s hands. He zones out, doesn’t feel the need to fill out the silence with empty words. Then he finds himself with mouthful of water and soaked T-shirt.

Pretending to be shocked, he looks up at Luke with comically widened eyes, only to find him smirking at him.

“Luke Hemmings, how am I supposed to get home now?”

“I don’t know. Guess you’ll have to wait until it dries.”

Luke tugs at Ashton’s belt loop, until he stumbles forward and plasters himself against Luke’s front, soaking his sweater.

“And how are you going to get me home when you’re drunk?” Ashton whispers, his thoughts a mess. He runs his hands through Luke’s hair and licks his lips. The wine is running through his veins, making him do things his conscious mind probably wouldn’t.

“Guess you’ll have to stay here, then.”

Luke dives down and captures Ashton’s lips in another bruising kiss. It slows down after a moment, turns into soft pecks, the sound of their mouths colliding mixing with their erratic breathing.

“You’re going to let a stranger in your bed?”

Luke brushes his cheekbone with his thumb, his other hand resting on the curve of Ashton’s bum. “You’re not a stranger.”

Ashton pulls his T-shirt over his head and throws it to the ground, stepping away form Luke. Before he can exit the kitchen, though, Luke’s arms wrap around his waist, stopping him and he leans down to brush his lips against Ashton’s bare shoulder. Ashton twists his head and lets Luke kiss him again. He hasn’t been kissed like that probably ever.

Luke’s lips are soft but also wet just _so_ and who’s Ashton to deny himself the pleasure. He thinks about Michael’s words again.

He let himself go probably too much; a strange feeling settles into the pit of his stomach.

“Luke, I… I can’t.”

He shies away from the other boy’s touch, closing his eyes and trying to convince himself it’s a right thing he’s doing.

“It’s okay,” Luke murmurs and leads the way to his bedroom.

They fall half naked on his bed, each on their respective side. Luke offers Ashton clothes, but he slips under the cover just in his boxers.

Ashton can’t sleep properly and when he wakes up for the third time that night, he doesn’t go back to sleep. The digital clock on Luke’s bedside table is showing 03:51 am and he can’t close his eyes again. He stares at Luke’s sleeping form, his mouth feels cottony and the remains of the alcohol still cloud his mind. After a while he realizes that he only dreamed of being cuddled up to the blond boy; Luke is lying on his back almost at the edge of the bed, his head turned to face Ashton.

Ashton gets this nagging feeling and he decides to stop thinking altogether. He wakes Luke up by poking him into the side. Fuck it.

“Wha-?” Luke mumbles into his pillow, confusedly rubbing at his eyes.

“I want to give you something as a thank you.”

Then he climbs over his body and shuffles down so he’s got his elbows propped up on either side of Luke’s hips, lying between his legs. He mumbles another _fuck it_ under his breath.

Then: “Is this alright?”

He can barely make out the tiny nod Luke gives in the darkness, but after he hears a sharp intake of breath, he goes down on him. He pushes his boxers down his thighs after Luke lifts his hips and then he works his way up and down his shaft, mouthing at his half-hard cock.

Luke is quite big and when he takes him in his mouth a moan ripples from his throat. Ashton smirks. He covers the rest of him he can’t reach with his hand, pumping in rhythm with his mouth. He can’t help himself but to grind against the mattress; Luke’s writhing underneath him and the sounds he makes are _so_ pretty and also, Ashton’s not a masochist.

Luke comes with deep grunt of Ashton’s name, and Ashton swallows every last drop, leaving a kiss against Luke’s hipbone.

“Thanks for the dinner and letting me stay here.”

“I’ve never gotten a thank you blow job before,” breathes Luke, still gasping for air. The only sound resonating in the silent room is Ashton’s laugh.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry for not updating this, i got kind of stuck
> 
> this is just pure smut; also maybe i will finish this fic quickly, bc im not sure about it anymore ??
> 
> sorry for the mistakes, its unedited and stuff

Ashton is clingy when he’s drunk. It’s really no surprise they end up at Luke’s flat. Whatever. He’s horny and wants to feel the blond haired boy everywhere. They undress in the front hall.

Luke took him to a party, well, technically Michael did but that doesn’t matter since he spend the entire evening plastered against Luke’s side and yeah, maybe people noticed, but nobody questioned it and the alcohol was great, also, has he mentioned he wants Luke to fuck him?

They dive into Luke’s bed, completely uncoordinated and wrapped into each other.

“Are you gonna fuck me, Luke?” Ashton breathes out then, tugging at Luke’s hair, while the younger boy sucks on the underside of Ashton’s jaw. He leaves a wet trail of kisses up to Ashton’s hair, sighing into his ear. Ashton squirms at that, Luke’s fingers playing with the curls on other side of his head. “Tickles,” he mumbles, “…so are you?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna fuck you hard and good, until you’re dripping cum _everywhere,_ ” Luke murmurs into his ear, voice clear and almost unfazed if not for his fingers taping a maybe nervous beat against Ashton’s hipbone.

“Pretty boy knows how to talk dirty,” Ashton smirks at him, pulling his face up with hands on his cheeks. He licks inside his mouth, the kiss is wet and full of spit and it should be disgusting, but it totally isn’t; Luke is brushing his hair back from his forehead and caressing his cheek in the process and Ashton is aware of his every move.

“Tell me what you’re going to do to me.”

“Stretch you out and make you take it from behind, what do you say about that?” Luke whispers into his neck, tongue dipping out to lick at his skin. Ashton bucks up his hips, encouraging Luke to grind down on him. When their clothed cocks brush together for the first time, Ashton lets out a gasp, raking his nails up and down Luke’s back. He stops at his ass, dipping under the elastic of his boxers and squeezing his ass cheeks, making his movements quicker.

“I say you,” Ashton breathes, “should get the lube.”

Luke hums against his collarbones in the process of sucking another bruise into his skin. He shakily breathes out through his nose and it, along with the feathery touch of Luke’s fingertips on his ribs, sends a shiver down Ashton’s body.

Luke pulls away then, stumbling from the bed to shuffle through his drawer. Ashton can’t actually see him, since it’s dark in the room, but he can hear him swearing under his breath. He sits up and pulls off his boxers, his head spinning. He feels giddy, maybe from the alcohol, maybe with the prospect of what they’re about to do. He groans impatiently at Luke, who’s still somewhere next to the bed, but then the mattress dips underneath him and he feels Luke’s hand stroking his thigh.

“Get on your stomach,” he instructs and Ashton doesn’t even hesitate, pressing his face into a pillow. Luke spreads out his legs, gripping his thighs. Ashton feels the air hit his exposed hole and he grinds down into the mattress, the sheets rough against him. Luke places a series of wet kisses along his inner thighs and Ashton turns his face to the side. “Just get on with it, would you,” he mumbles.

“Patience,” he whispers before he spreads Ashton’s ass cheeks, leaning down to give his hole a kiss. He feels a wet pressure and then he’s outright moaning, because he didn’t expect Luke to do _that._

“Oh… mygod,” he groans into the pillow and feels Luke’s lips spread into a smile. He licks further into him and Ashton doesn’t know what to do, he just grips the sheets and grinds down some more. Luke’s tongue travels further then, licking and sucking behind his balls, his nose pressed against Ashton’s hole and _oh. Oh._ “Fuck,” Ashton swears loudly, moving to escape Luke’s grip on his ass. “Prep me already, jesus.”

“You liked it?” Luke whispers into the soft skin of his cheek, nudging a finger against him. “ _God,_ yes.”

It’s not long before there’s the second finger and a tongue and a third finger and Ashton’s turned into a whimpering mess, trying to muffle the sounds with the pillows. “I’m not gonna last… long if you keep, _ah,_ doing tha-at.”

And Luke doesn’t hesitate with his cock, hard and relentless. He wraps his arms around Ashton’s abdomen, pulling him up so Ashton has no choice but to folds his legs, his face still pressed into the pillows.

“I want to hear you,” Luke gasps into his ear, lips trailing down to press kisses to the knobs of his spine, licking the sweat. So he lets himself to be heard, propping up on his elbows and moaning loudly – a mixture of words and Luke’s name. He only echoes it back, slamming into Ashton, their skin snapping together loudly.

He pulls Ashton into his lap then and Ashton rolls down his hips, bouncing himself on Luke’s cock and Luke’s all he can feel. He has his hand around Ashton’s neck, not squeezing, just resting there, feeling his pulse; Ashton’s head is on Luke’s shoulder, from where he can whisper encouragements into Ashton’s ear.

“Come for me, baby.” And maybe that’s what it does it, or maybe it’s the right angle and when his orgasm rips out of him it’s almost painful. His come coats his stomach, mixing with the sweat there.

Ashton squeezed the muscles around Luke and feels him shudder underneath him, coming into the condom. “Ashton, _oh my god._ ”

Ashton’s limbs feel like they’re made from jelly when he slowly pushes himself off of Luke’s cock and lies down on his back. “Could you maybe, like, bring some tissues?” he croaks out, reaching for the blond haired boy’s back as he stands up. He feels a soft pressure on his belly then, wiping out the mess. As soon as Luke’s done, Ashton rolls over onto his side, snuggling with the duvet tucked between his legs, half of his body uncovered.

Luke turns on the bedside lamp, the soft orange glow filling up the room and Ashton has to blink a few times for his eyes to adjust. He watches as Luke puts on his boxers and then tries to toss the condom into the trash, but fails and it lands on the ground next to it. Ashton giggles softly as Luke settles down onto the bed, back resting against the headboard.

They’re quiet after that, Ashton alternating between dozing off and watching Luke fiddle with his phone.

“Sex is so relaxing,” he purrs then, stretching out his limbs. It could be twenty minutes. Or more. And the scene is so real, like cut out from real life, not his, not Luke’s. Somewhere in between. Maybe because life, as the relationship between them, isn’t romantic. He has his hair mated on his forehead, from where Luke has it so un-romantically pushed it back. He’s itching for a cigarette.

Luke has his ankles crossed and he’s concentrating on the phone in his hands. Maybe texting, or tweeting some orgasm-inspired rubbish. “Sorry, Michael’s going on about some guy… what did you say?” He turns to Ashton, eyebrows raised.

“What guy? … well, how long has it been since someone showed you what proper sex looks like?”

Luke smirks at him, slowly pulling the duvet from Ashton’s grip. The older boy lets it go, laying on his side and feeling Luke’s heavy gaze on him. “Probably as long as you. Also, he’s talking about some Calum. Is that you friend?”

Ashton nods and watches Luke slowly move closer. “Alsoo, what are you thoughts on round two?”

Ashton laughs then, pulling his legs together and making Luke’s hand get stuck between his thighs.

“Nope, not gonna let you do this until you write  something about me there,” Ashton gestures to the abandoned phone and Luke burrows his face into Ashton’s chest. He thinks all the social networks would crash with the mention of any man, or a woman for that matter, in Luke’s life. But Ashton also deserves his moment of fame.

“Fine. It’s going to be something like… that when you laugh, your laugh is kind of pretty. Or maybe that when I fuck you, you’re not such a little bitch. And now, legs apart.”

He bites him then, leaving teeth marks on the side of his chest and Ashton’s laugh echoes around in the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay, but I finally finished this wow
> 
> hope you like the last chapter, enjoy lovelies<3

**I made a playlist; listen[here](http://8tracks.com/ashtnwins/let-s-cause-a-little-trouble) **

 

Do you ever compliment a stripper?“

“Yeah, when you want a free blowjob as a bonus,” Ashton says after a moment of thinking, just as Luke turns off the engine.

“In that case I like your shirt. And the shoes.”

Ashton plays with the hem of the denim shirt he’s wearing and twists his toes in the shiny combat boots. “Thanks, little star. You paid for them.” He gets out of the car, somehow hesitatingly, because he doesn’t know what to expect. He doesn’t even know why he accepted the invitation to be Luke’s _companion_ to his friend’s garden party. Well, it’s too late to change his mind now.

“In _that_ case I want more than a blowjob,” Luke smirks at him and throws his hand over Ashton’s shoulder, leading him to the backyard. There’s a kid’s swing at the back and a familiar red head sitting in the middle of the lawn; others are milling about the wooden stairs and terrace. Luke gets an armful of two small blonde kids and Ashton’s confidence slowly slips out of him. He leaves them there and makes his way to Michael instead, sitting down next to him, stealing the bottle of beer he’s holding.

“Who are you and what have you done with Ashton?” he says and lifts his hand to touch at Ashton’s hair. “You combed your hair?”

“Fuck off and bring me another beer.”

“Now, that isn’t a way to talk around Luke’s family. You want to make a good first impression, right?”

Ashton chokes on a mouthful of beer. It drips down his chin, seeping into his jeans and the grass, where he’s sitting cross-legged. “ _His what_?” he hisses.

“Oh, you didn’t know? Aaw, I guess I’ll bring you that beer then.”

“NO, what the fuck Michael you can’t just...” Ashton whisper-shouts at him, but he’s already moving out of his reach.

Luke is looking his way, while he talks to a blonde woman, probably his mother. Oh _god_ Luke’s mother. That bastard. They were talking about _blowjobs_ ten minutes ago. He’s going to get into so much trouble. Michael comes back with the beers and laughs for about twenty minutes at the situation, mostly at Ashton’s stricken expression and the murderous glances he’s throwing Luke’s way.

“Why are you even here anyway, idiot?” Ashton asks him, when they are both lying on the grass, just enjoying the bit of sun they got.

“I was invited. And knew where I was going, before I went.”

“Haha, funny. You are close with Luke’s family?”

“You could say that. Known him since forever.”

“How come _I_ never knew about him?”

“You hadn’t asked.”

Michael makes him go for the third beer with him.

Luke is standing barefoot at the grill with a red plastic cup in his hand and the sleeves of his black T-shirt are folded up on his shoulders. When Ashton’s close enough, Luke wraps an arm around his waist and then smiles stupidly at him, probably having had too many beers. “Lucas,” he warns, but Luke’s already turning to his mum and introducing them and oh god Ashton’s shaking hands with Luke’s mother, Ashton’s being observed by his family. Her gaze stops at Luke’s hand on his waist, at how close they are standing together and Ashton’s feeling very uncomfortable, he’s going to kill Luke; it’s probably the worst situation he’s ever been in. He tries to squirm out of Luke’s hold, but he only tightens his arm around him.

“...about the time our little Lewi brought his boyfriend home.” And oh, someone’s talking to him, right. The guy’s even taller than Luke and Ashton has to look up at him and he suddenly feels very small. “Oh?”

“Yeah. ‘M Jack, Luke’s brother,” he stretches out a hand and Ashton takes it. It can’t get worse than this.

It doesn’t. It actually gets better once everyone stops giving them attention and they’re left to drink and talk to Luke’s brothers. It’s the most normal conversation Ashton’s had in... ever, probably.

Luke has both of his arms wrapped around Ashton now and his chin hooked over his shoulder. His stubble tickles Ashton’s cheek as he turns his head when Jack and Ben go to get their plates. “Ashtoooon, come swing with me.”

He can finally breathe as soon as they move away, out of the eyesight with the trees as their coverage. Ashton’s initial rage is gone but he still sighs as Luke sits him down onto the swing. “Luke, I’m not the kind of boy you bring home to introduce to your parents.”

“Yes, you are. You look really cute today. I like it.”

“Shut up,” Ashton mumbles, looking at the tips of his boots touching Luke’s bare feet.

“I’d kiss you,” he says, leaning down to be at eye-level with Ashton.

“I’d say you can.”

And then Luke’s hands cover his own on the swing’s chain and he’s stepping closer into his space, lips on his temple, nose, cheek. Ashton’s eyelashes flutter closed.

Luke’s lips open his in a quick motion, leaving him breathless and numbing his body. Someone once told him that a man can steal anything from you except for a kiss that you want and a feeling that you can’t have. Regardless of that, Ashton finds himself sitting on Luke’s knees under that tree; kissed into oblivion and with a certainty that if anyone would ask what he did this afternoon, he’d reply he lived.

 

....

 

Ashton can feel his hot gaze burning into him from across the room. His performance is almost finished, he’s down to a pair of sparkly pair of thongs and moving barefoot around the podium. He grabs the pole in the middle, hooking his leg around it and sliding down for the last time, exposing his ass to the crowd. He hears the hollers and catcalls, but they’re muted, coming from the background. Music is important.

He finds Luke’s eyes in the crowd and lets the waistband of the thong slap against his skin. Throwing him a wink, he slowly moves back and the strobe lights fade away. Ashton rushes backstage, pulling the money out from the fabric. Before he can get to his bag and change, a hand snakes around his wrist and pulls him to the side.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Luke grins at him, almost hidden in the shadow of the huge curtain. Ashton pulls him behind into one of the toilets and flicks on the light. He feels kind of dizzy from the stage lights and movement, the adrenaline still pumping through his blood.

“Hi,” he breathes out and tries to get Luke to shrug off the denim jacket he’s wearing. He puts it on, covering half of his body and then he wraps his arms around Luke’s neck and jumps up. He presses the bare soles of his feet into Luke’s ass, trying to warm them up a little while Luke stumbles for balance.

“’m cold,” he murmurs, nosing at Luke’s jaw, breathing in the familiar smell of his skin and musky cologne. Luke presses him into the wall and finds his lips, licking inside his mouth. Ashton lets himself be kissed and pressed into the wall, but then he pulls away, catching his breath.

“Let’s finish this elsewhere? I need to get this off, it’s really uncomfortable.”

“Alright. I’ll wait for you in the car.” Luke pecks his lips quickly and then puts him on the ground.

Ashton emerges from the back door, wrapped up in Luke’s jacket, with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Luke is waiting on him, as he always is.

The distant lights of the city are blinking at Ashton and he’s blinking back, lazily. Technically, he’s not allowed to smoke in Luke’s car, but the other boy doesn’t voice his annoyance with him, except for the tight disapproving lines around his mouth. He’s driving and Ashton doesn’t know where are they going; he just remembers saying he wants them to go away, away, away, together, somewhere.

The landscape gets a bit blurry as Ashton watches the passing stars – they get more visible the further away they are from the lights. Luke’s weird playlist is playing in the background and his own song comes on; Ashton stops him from changing it and sings loudly, fucking up the words purposefully just to piss him off. Just because he can.

Ashton turns to watch him then; how he bites his lips and concentrates on driving, hands gripping the steering wheel. He falls asleep looking at the blue light throwing shadows on Luke’s collarbones and the lines of his face.

When he wakes, they are in the middle of nowhere and fallingforyou is playing from the background. Luke is watching him and then reaching for him as soon as he opens his eyes. Ashton goes willingly, climbing over the center console and sitting sideways on Luke’s lap.

“Where are we?” he mumbles, mouth brushing over Luke’s collarbone from where he leaned his cheek on Luke’s shoulder.

“I don’t know. I don’t care.” Luke’s hand is on his thigh and the other one lifts Ashton’s head, thumb brushing over a spot next to his eye. The moment is paused, still and waiting for their next movement.

“ _I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you_ ,” Luke whispers and Ashton closes his eyes at that, breathing in deep. The silence stretching out is fragile, they both know they are walking on thin ice right know. Ashton lets the words settle under his skin, finding a permanent place somewhere in his chest. His heart responds accordingly – thumping so loudly he’s sure Luke can feel it right where his is doing the same thing.

He doesn’t say anything. They both feel it when he brushes their mouths together.

Ashton lets himself kiss Luke until the songs run out and their lips are swollen. The warmth rings through his bones as he touches Luke’s cheek, neck, lets his palm rest against the beating of his heart. They stay like that for a long time. The sky slowly grows into a dawn, colours splitting it into hues of purple, yellow and orange. The air that flows in through the window is crisp and smells like a new beginning. Ashton shivers against Luke’s body and tucks his hands under the shirt he’s wearing. Luke lets his lips linger on Ashton’s forehead. They are gone, far away from the confusing city lights. (They are gone for each other.) And maybe it’s better like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual all the grammar mistakes are mine (and there's quite a few in this fic, sorry) 
> 
> you can find me on tumblr @ ashtnwins

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think of the idea 'n stuff
> 
> you can also do it on tumblr @ashtnwins


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